Spice Trade
by 2BBornot2BB
Summary: What if ... the simple hand holding at the airport was an act of restraint after Brennan and Booth had shared a more intimate goodbye before Booth left for base?  EPILOGUE NOW UP ...  there's a time and place for B&B fluff - and that time is NOW!  :D
1. Chapter 1

_This story was started in response to another great LJ challenge from cathmarchr. But it just grew and grew, and I missed the deadline. But then – magic – another comment fic meme ("What if ..?") on LJ resurrected it, so here it is. Hope you enjoy it!_

_Thanks once more to the wonderful nudgy cathmarchr for her (several) read throughs and input - you're a treasure, hunny - you really got me back on track with this one!_

_Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)_

* * *

Spice Trade

**

* * *

**

July 1, 2010

**Balkh Province, Afghanistan**

Booth patted his breast pocket again, the action unconscious, almost a habit now. Another talisman added to his collection. He knew the words off by heart, all twenty-four of them.

"_Landed safely. Flight excellent (first class)."_ Booth smiled every time he thought of that, not entirely sure that she'd meant it as a joke, but hoping that she had. _"Denpasar hot and crowded. Flight to Ambon then Seram Laut tomorrow pm."_ He'd googled the places she'd mentioned; there was apparently a lot of island hopping to get to where she was going. _"Gov't reception tonight."_ Booth's smile always spread to a grin when he thought of those words. He knew how much she hated that kind of stuff, but he didn't have any trouble imagining her donning some little black number she had tucked in the corner of her pack, something that would take the breath away from those government types and leave them begging for more. He knew the feeling; oh, how he knew the feeling. But it was the valediction that had kept the battered rectangle of cardboard in his pocket since the mail jockey had slapped it into his hand with a grin.

In the few idle moments he'd had in the weeks since he'd got her postcard he'd found his mind going back to her final words again and again. _"Miss you. B." _He missed her so much it was like there was a hole in his chest big enough to put his fist through. When he'd spotted the familiar writing, her tightly controlled script and those seemingly random oversized looping tails on the 'g's, he'd felt his pulse start to race. Even her handwriting set off an avalanche of memory that only hard physical exertion could stem.

The reproduction vintage postcard was typically her. Three angelically beautiful pre-pubescent Balinese girls danced across the front, the words "Spice Islands" elegantly engraved above them. There was probably some anthropological significance to their elaborate costumes or their ridiculously long fingernails or something. He'd immediately searched for the crassest, most garish cartoon of Army life he could find, and whipped back a clichéd reply. _"Having a great time. Wish you were here." _He wondered what significance, anthropological or otherwise, Brennan might care to give to that.

He recalled the conversation in her office just before she finished up at the Jeffersonian where they'd made that stupid half-assed agreement not to call unless there was an emergency. Brennan argued logically and rationally that it would give them each a chance to settle properly into their new environments. As always, he'd gone along with what she wanted. But he felt his resolve waver daily, hourly. Things had changed. Twelve months. Shit.

A year until he could feel the silk of her skin against his again, smell her arousal, feel her hands on his body … before he could lose himself in her again. He didn't think he could make it. Booth closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the metal skin of the craft, hoping the intense vibrations he could feel through his skull would shatter the longing he felt. Images of her hovering over him, her eyes alight with lust, the sound of his name on her breath, intruded against the black of his subconscious, images that almost overwhelmed him. He tried to think of something else but memories of the delicious friction of their bodies joined together almost made him come apart at the seams …

The Blackhawk hit a clear air pocket over the stark desert landscape and the resulting lurch of the aircraft almost tipped him out of his seat. Laughter crackled through his headset, cutting across the syncopated roar of the rotors. Booth good-naturedly tolerated the catcalls and guffaws, settling himself more securely on the bench. His nostrils filled with the now familiar smells of JP8 from the chopper engines, and sweat and fear from the men in his squad. He could barely remember a time when there wasn't the smell of sweat around him. His hand reached up and patted his breast pocket in a gesture so completely automatic he was no longer aware of it. Several of the rag-tag group of soldiers he been assigned exchanged knowing glances; there was already a book running on just what it was that was in the Sarge's pocket.

Booth was halfway through what would now only be an eight week tour in northern Afghanistan; the powers that be had decided he'd be utilized more effectively Stateside. Back at Fort Benning, where he could "process" a higher number of trainees. He grimaced at the Army-speak. They made it sound like he'd be stamping their foreheads and shrinkwrapping them. Even the usual sixty-one day turnaround for trainees had been cut to forty-six. Things were changing here; the war was changing. His skills had to be passed on to the greatest number of soldiers in the shortest amount of time, and those soldiers were destined to go back and in turn train the locals. So it was back to the States for him. In a few months the weather here would turn to shit anyway and everything would slow down to a crawl. Winter is harsh across the country, with temperatures sitting below zero and Wakhan Corridor, and its labyrinth of connecting caves they were detailed to investigate, would be inaccessible due to the heavy snows. He didn't really know how he felt about this change in plans; all he really cared about was that he'd be even further away from Bones.

"Boss?" Booth's head shot up at his corporal's voice and he pulled himself together rapidly. The chopper descended abruptly to the drop off point, sending up a cloud of dust that tinted everything and everyone in a fifty foot radius a sickly gray. Mountain phase training had begun.

~o0o~

**May 20, 2010**

**Washington DC**

_Six weeks earlier …_

Booth rang the bell to Brennan's apartment again. She had to be there. He'd wangled and schmoozed to try and get off base until his face ached, and in the end he'd just left. No one had challenged him. Getting back in without getting put on a charge might take all the finagling he could muster, but he'd worry about that later. There was something much more important he needed to do now.

His hand fluttered nervously down his chest to straighten the tie that wasn't there. It still felt weird to be in uniform again. The building was quiet, creaking now and then the way old buildings do as they settle under a blanket of cool air. He looked at his watch: 1:17am. Damn. The first flight he could get out of Columbus, Georgia had been at 11pm, and he'd gotten into Dulles a little after midnight. Now he stood at her door, a 'Rangers Lead the Way' tee shirt in a crumpled paper bag in his hand, his hair slicked down like an eighth grader's. When there was no sign of life from inside the apartment he sighed, resignation pushing down on his shoulders. He really must be crazy.

If he were honest with himself, he wasn't even sure he was welcome. Things had been weird between them since he'd taken his gamble on telling her how he felt, asking her to give 'them' a chance. A gamble that he'd lost. He'd backed off, trying not to hurt her and in the process fatally wounding himself.

Without warning the latch snicked and the door eased open an inch, then swung wide.

"Booth?" Sleep clouded her eyes, but her burgeoning smile set his heart beating faster.

"Hey," he said softly, flicking his tongue over his lips nervously.

"Hey yourself." Her nipples crested under the thin camisole she wore as cold air rushed around her. He tried to not to stare but his eyes were drawn back to their impudent presence despite himself. "What are you doing here?" she went on, "I put you on the plane to Fort Benning myself." Her voice rose on a crescendo of disbelief.

He didn't answer her straight away, instead looking past her and raising his brows, silently asking to come in. She stepped aside, hugging her arms across her chest, and the night breeze sent the satiny pajama bottoms in a caress against her legs. He reached behind her door and pulled at the ancient pashmina he knew was always hung there. His hands shook a little as he tucked it around her shoulders. He let her go abruptly, closing the apartment door behind him.

Brennan looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation of his presence at this hour of the morning, five hundred miles from where she thought he was.

"I needed to tell you -" Something in his voice or in his expression must have signalled his intensity and a look of trepidation shot across her face. He hastily amended his words, easing back, "Ah, to see you again before you left, make sure you were okay. You know how it is. Five years, every day; I can't help it." His grin belied his thoughts. He didn't tell her the truth, that he'd come here to ask for another chance. Or that he couldn't let her go without telling her he loved her, holding her against him just once more without the others around looking on expectantly. What they had between them had never been for sharing, always just for them, alone.

She gave him a wary smile and hugged the shawl tighter around her, the superfine cashmere outlining her breasts like a second skin. He felt the familiar tension flare in his groin, but ignored it as he always did. She turned and headed towards the kitchen.

"I've got instant coffee, no cream or sugar, or something called _házi_ _palinka_. Everything else is either in the trash or non-perishable." Brennan yawned and the pashmina slipped off her shoulders. She didn't even notice or try to catch it, instead reaching for the bottle of alcohol that she'd left in its gift bag, a farewell present from Mr Szabo, the man who ran the whole food store on the corner.

Booth held out the crumpled paper carrier that he'd brought with him and she took it with a small frown. She smirked at the gung ho slogan on the tee shirt and surprised him by slipping it over her head straight away. It swam on her, skimming her thighs, and Booth thought she'd never looked so adorable. She picked up the bottle, barely waiting for his nod before she unscrewed the cap.

"It's strange to see you in uniform, here in my apartment. It feels … wrong." She frowned as she poured two generous measures out into matching bone china tea cups, holding one out to Booth. "Cheers, or I think you're supposed to say '_egészségedre!'_."

"_Gesundheit!"_ Booth joked back on a grin but the wisecrack went over her head.

"I'm instructed you drink it like a shot." She continued, her brows raised doubtfully.

Booth sniffed the olive green tinged drink suspiciously, his eyes watering at the fumes coming from it, but he bravely sculled the brew when she did. They both broke into paroxysms of coughing as the neat alcohol hit their stomachs.

"Ah jeez, Bones, that's disgusting! What is it?"

Brennan gasped for air, "He said it was just fruit and some herbs." Their eyes met and she started to laugh. "Oh, that was just awful." Booth joined in and she held up the bottle again. "Want another one?"

He met the challenge in her eyes and wordlessly held out the cup. Another generous splash, a chink as their cups met, a fair amount of blinking back spontaneous eye watering, but this time no coughing. Brennan's gaze never left his face, her expression cautious.

"Why are you here, Booth?"

Booth wasn't sure whether the huskiness in her voice was an effect of the alcohol or the question. He dropped his eyes to the cup in his hands. "This stuff's not half bad after the first couple, hey Bones? Hit me." Brennan's face screwed up in confusion and Booth clarified, "Pour another shot."

She retrieved the bottle from the counter, muttering under her breath, "It might be quite satisfying to _actually_ hit you."

"I told you, Bones, just making sure you're okay." He looked away, needing a break from the directness of her gaze. She poured two more shots, her hand a little unsteady. He drew a deep breath. "Bones -"

"Drink, Booth." She cut in hurriedly, "Wish me well on my journey."

"Don't go, Bones." The words tumbled out without thought. Who was he to ask her not to go; wasn't he going too? There was no getting out of that. He wanted to turn the clock back, but time and events seemed to be barrelling out of his control and he wasn't ready for it. His expression was bleak and he tried to make eye contact with but she kept her eyes downcast.

"I can't talk about that, Booth. Please." She pressed her lips together to stop them trembling; she was obviously determined to avoid the conversation he was desperate to have. She raised the cup to her lips, throwing the liquor down the back of her throat. She looked so miserable and it broke his heart, that he was causing her pain by intruding into her life after she thought she'd successfully filed him away for a while. A muscle in his jaw worked furiously as he battled with himself. Consideration for her feelings won and he raised his cup in a silent toast and followed her example, letting the burn of the homemade brandy erode the words that were stuck in his throat.

"I hope you have a great trip, Bones." Another forced smile, letting the speech he'd prepared dissolve into nothing. "I really do." At least he could be sincere in that.

"Thanks, Booth." She put the cup in the sink, tiredness etched on her face. "I really need to get some sleep." She turned away from him, fruitlessly attempting to keep her hands occupied by tidying the empty kitchen counter. "When do you have to get back to Benning?"

"Tomorrow." He looked at his watch. "Ah, today. My flight leaves about twenty minutes after yours."

She swung around to face him, astonished. "I don't understand, you came back to Washington for just a few hours? You are not behaving rationally, Agent Booth."

_Agent_ Booth? How much of that brandy stuff had she had? "It's Sergeant Major Booth now, Bones." he reminded her gently, "You don't get to boss me around any more." He flicked a strand of hair away from her face.

At his words she looked stricken, as if the reality of what they were doing had only now occurred to her. She tried to recover her poise, but failed.

He pulled her into his embrace and she let him. His hug was purely for comfort, comfort for both of them.

"Yeah, I know, I'm nuts." He murmured into her hair, his tone self deprecating. "C'mon, you should get to bed. Big day tomorrow."

"You too. Do you want to stay? The spare bed's still made up." She looked up at him with a frown, her confusion fuelled by alcohol and the lateness of the hour. "I can't believe you're here, Booth. How could you know I -?" she broke off and left the rest unsaid.

He let her guileless comment pass, convinced she'd forget it in the morning. She'd made her feelings clear, and he'd just have to live with it.

~o0o~

Brennan sat up in bed, her face damp with perspiration. She'd been dreaming, a tangled mess of soldiers and blood and Booth. A shudder went through her body and she felt the tears of her dream begin to seep down her cheeks. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, impatient with herself. Dreams were not real, dreams meant nothing except the mind processing the minutiae of life.

She checked the bedside clock: 2:12am. She'd been asleep less than half an hour. Up until then she'd been tossing and turning, unable to rest knowing Booth was in the next room. Why had he come? She was angry with him for turning up like that, when she'd finally resigned herself to the reality of the future she'd chosen, when the doubts had finally been silenced. It was only a year, the time it took for the earth to rotate once around the sun. Time enough to realign herself and reprioritize, rediscover the delight of ancient remains, reclaim the fascination from her life before hunting murderers had consumed her. Before Booth.

Panic crowded in on her again as images flooded her mind and she felt her heart pound in her chest. A hundred images splayed across her mind's eye. Booth shielding her with his body, pushing her out of the way of trouble, getting the bad guy … stopping a bullet meant for her. And always a hero; always her hero. What if he died, what if he didn't stop being a hero, being Booth? What had she done by making this separation come about?

She crossed her arms across her body, hugging the unidentifiable feelings against her flesh. She was feverish with uncertainty, not understanding that she was trying to deal with grief. Grief for what was actually her deepest fear. A world without Booth.

God, she ached for him. She did the only thing she could do then. She went to him.

~o0o~

Just as Booth finally let himself relax and was ready for sleep Brennan slid beside him without fanfare, barely disturbing the sheets.

"Bones?" He didn't raise his voice above a whisper even though her appearance took him completely by surprise.

"Damn you, Booth." Her voice shook with suppressed emotion and with the enormity of what she was doing.

When she slid her arm across his bare chest he couldn't help the jolt that wracked his body. He was instantly hard and as her hand swept down his torso and across his hips he tried to shy away from her touch, embarrassed to be found hot and ready for sex like a teenager. She didn't hesitate to take him in her hand, stroking him gently and all the while sprinkling kisses along the line of his shoulder.

"What is this? Feeling sorry for me?" he asked bitterly, hating himself as he said it. She pinched the soft flesh of his inner thigh, hard enough to make him yelp.

"It is what it is. Pity has nothing to do with it." She sat up, slipping off her sweat dampened tee shirt and camisole, revealing a field of creamy skin that shone in the dim light. "Can't you just let me have this?" The harsh rejoinder froze on his lips at her soft entreaty.

A groan escaped him at the sight of her, her breasts full and round and perfect. He pulled her onto his chest and wrapped his arms around her, savouring the feel of those breasts flattened against his skin, taking what was on offer without question or thought. His mouth finally found hers and he lost himself in the feel of the soft flesh inside her upper lip, the satiny slide of her legs across his thighs and the sting of her nails digging into his upper arms as they explored each other eagerly. They traded heat and murmured inarticulate expressions of tenderness that meant everything and nothing, coaxing heart into the physicality of their union. She straddled him, teasing him by rubbing her sex along the length of his hardness. She laughed, exulted, when she felt the strength of his response and pressed against him even harder, all the while whispering his name like some sort of chant. Lust flared in her eyes and he flipped her over until she was squirming beneath him, still laughing, and he studied her. Her face slowly stilled and she looked back at him solemnly. She repeated her earlier words, this time edged with husky desire. "Damn you, Booth."

He hesitated for a moment, poised above her, capturing in his memory the picture her hair splayed across the pillow like a living thing and the heat of their breath mingling. He felt his stomach clench as a wave of fierce possessiveness surged across his brain and through his heart, before he gave into the urgency of her hands. When they came together in a tangle of limbs and lips, the emotional release was almost stronger than the physical; fast and furious, almost feral. He pounded into her and her hips rose from the bed to meet every thrust until they both cried out in pleasure as they came apart, one after the other.

Their movements slowed then stilled, and they lay in each other arms, panting, neither of them able to find words that fit the time. Brennan drifted into an exhausted sleep, her head wedged stubbornly in the crook of his shoulder, finally finding a modicum of peace through their actions.

Booth watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing for a long time, his jaw set and his eyes sad. He didn't understand this woman; his partner. But he knew he loved her. He tried to let the sound of her breathing, deep and even, soothe him. Maybe it was a mistake to come here after all. Their almost wordless union had been a release of tension for both of them – but was it anything more? Whether Brennan would regret her actions he didn't know, but he realised he couldn't bear the thought of seeing the rejection in her eyes when she woke up. He wanted to leave with the picture of her face that was seared to his brain, the picture of her face as she came.

So he got up, stealthily so as not to disturb her, rewarded by the fact that her breathing didn't even falter. He was dressed and out on the street before he'd given himself time to think. He needed action, movement now - something to blot out thought, so he walked. He kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other, breaking into a trot after a couple of blocks. He felt the steady rhythm of his pace begin to soothe him, as it always did, the resilient rubber soles of his tan combat boots changing his gait so that he had to concentrate on placing his feet at precise intervals on the sidewalk. The streets were empty and he had the city to himself, walking, then running, then walking again.

As dawn broke he found himself at one end of the Reflecting Pool, breathless and saturated with sweat. He smiled without humor at the irony of it all and flagged down a passing cab.

"Dulles." The cab driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. The Washington Monument shimmered gold on the surface of the pool in the early morning light, but Booth had closed his eyes, his head falling back on the seat.

He let her go, because that was what she wanted.

~o0o~

They were all there at the departure gate; Hodgins and Angela, happiness like a halo around them, Cam looking elegantly beautiful and every so faintly bemused by the fact that this moment had actually come. Daisy's eagerness to go only made Sweets' sad smile more heartbreaking to witness. Brennan felt the lack of Booth's presence keenly and her eyes kept flicking through the crowd.

"Uh-oh – here we go." Brennan's gaze scoured the concourse at Cam's words, the thrill she felt when she spied Booth in the distance causing an ache in her gut that she struggled to rationalise. Thank god he'd come. She tried to keep calm, and managed to keep her usual tranquil mask in place but inside she was an uncharacteristic jumble of nerves.

Booth spotted the small clutch of squints, the others blurred against the reality of Brennan. His resolve to stay away had lasted as far as the entrance to the domestic terminal and he had turned on his heel like an automaton; he may as well try to stop breathing as try to keep away from one more look of her. Their eyes met, hers lighting with pleasure that she couldn't hide.

And so they said their public goodbyes, a sanitized version for the benefit of their colleagues, neither of them acknowledging what had passed between them the night before. One last look back at him, then she was gone.

~o0o~

**August 9****, 2010**

**Fort Benning **

Booth's reintroduction to Fort Benning had been relatively painless. He'd passed through debriefing in record time and had headed down range on day three. He knew it would take him a damn sight longer than that to get rid of the dust of Afghanistan; those two months would stay with him for a long time.

Standard Army snafu meant his quarters weren't ready yet and he spent his first few nights in one of the old twelve bunk enlisted barracks, but they'd moved him within a few days. He was quietly glad; sharing a shower block with eleven able-bodied twentysomethings fuelled by adrenaline and a sense of their own invincibility had made him feel old and tired. His new quarters were decent, but soulless; the regulation one hundred and thirty-five square feet of net living area. More than enough room when all you did in your spare time was lie on your bunk and stare at the ceiling. Single personnel accommodation always smelled the same; fried food, boot polish and sweat.

When he'd first arrived, he'd thrown his duffel on the floor and stacked the two small cardboard boxes which held the rest of his possessions in a corner, stuff that had been in storage here at Benning while he'd been overseas. He couldn't be bothered unpacking them up to now, but if this was to be his home for the next nine months he figured now was as good a time as any to find a place for it all.

He settled himself on the floor and half-heartedly pulled the first box towards him. Two framed photos of Parker were on the top and he returned his son's smile, the sight of the cheeky face in the picture giving him an instant lift. Parker was such a great kid. _How did that happen?_ he thought wryly, not recognising the self-deprecating observation as evidence of the black depression that had settled on him in the last few days. Booth used his sleeve to wipe the dust off a shelf and put the photos there; a place of honor.

He knelt back down beside the box with a sigh, resigning himself to sorting through the rest of the contents. His hand fell on something yielding and a tingle went through him at the contact. He fingered the cotton fabric that had been wrapped around the frames and his mood pooled in his gut again.

It was an old FBI tee shirt of his that had been washed a hundred times, until it was soft and worn. Brennan had borrowed it one night at his place. He held it up to his face, breathing in her scent. They'd been caught in a storm and ended up back at his apartment, both soaked to the skin. Thai food eaten at his coffee table, sitting on the floor, while they waited for her wet clothes to go through the cycle in the dryer. She'd changed back into her own clothes when they were dry and he'd tossed the tee shirt into a drawer. Funny how he'd never gotten around to washing it. Funny how he'd brought it with him.

He gave himself a mental shake and sat back on his heels. Jesus, way to torture himself. He tossed it over his shoulder with feigned nonchalance, rummaging through the box for a bottle of scotch he was sure he'd shoved in at the last minute. His fingers touched the long cool hardness of the bottle neck, and he tugged at it, spilling papers and mementoes onto the floor; a motley collection he'd thought he couldn't live without.

He stared at the mess he'd made, picking up the little plastic pig that had landed near his foot. He'd given it to Brennan ages ago and had surreptitiously swiped it off her desk on his last day at work. His legs started to cramp and he let his butt slide onto the floor, groaning as his overworked muscles stretched and contracted to accommodate the new position. He'd thought he was fit, but the punishing regime that RAP week demanded had almost killed him. Then the ten day Benning patrol phase: a five mile run and a sixteen mile road march with seventy pounds of gear each and every day, land navigation both day and night, demolition training, bayonet assault course, physical fitness test, combat water survival test, basic patrolling classes, artillery training, obstacle courses, and a great deal of sleep loss. He'd walked, run and crawled every inch with his men. They'd spent four hours a day planning, sixteen hours executing each mission, one hour in recovery/refit, and a princely three hours asleep, all on two thousand calories a day. In the three weeks since he'd been a Ranger Instructor at the US Army Training and Doctrine Command here at Fort Benning, food had become a luxury. He'd lost almost twenty pounds but his muscles were like iron. Thank god the next four weeks were classroom based and he could get a burger any time he liked. His mouth watered at the thought of a mega burger and fries, sitting across from Bones at their table at the diner.

Bones. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

And all he'd had was that one postcard from her. He wanted to hear her voice, even if it meant getting ticked off in no uncertain terms. He sighed, and put that idea back in its box.

He'd finally gotten around to writing a letter to her yesterday, though he hadn't mailed it yet. It sat on his desk, folded in thirds, next to an envelope he'd carefully addressed. The letter was full of news and the stupid things the grunts did, lighthearted stories of what he'd been up to. He'd made a couple of grade school jokes about spicy food and eventually remembered to ask her about the bones she'd gone half a world away to work on. He missed telling her about his day.

In his head he heard the echo of his own voice when, before he'd left, he'd quizzed Brennan on something that had bugged him for ages.

_Doesn't it make you lonely, not having someone in your life? Who do you tell your stories to?_

She'd shrugged, not bothered by the question or her answer, _I guess I keep them to myself. Or tell them to you._

He forced the memory – and the loneliness – back. The sound of her voice faded away along with the sweet sincerity of the smile that had accompanied her remark.

The need to talk to her was like a living thing inside him.

He dragged himself back to the present and cracked the seal on the scotch, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. She'd said no phone calls. He took another generous gulp, enjoying the burn of the alcohol as it travelled down his gullet. Yet another rule he'd promised to follow. Resentment billowed through him.

He stood up, his head buzzing a little with the effects of the alcohol and the residual exhaustion from the last few weeks. Anger was beginning to percolate through him at the high handed little rule maker he adored with all his being. Oh yeah, did he mention the rule about spending twelve months apart to try and … what? He wasn't even sure he knew what this separation was supposed to achieve. In his agitation he paced the room, the muscles across his back complaining at each twist of his heels.

No phone calls, huh? How was he supposed survive on that one night of passion they'd shared? He felt like some kind of junkie, only his drug of choice was Temperance Brennan. One fuck was too many and a thousand would never be enough. He wondered mockingly if there was a twelve step program for love-sick former FBI agents.

His level of frustration started to escalate. No phone calls. He'd give her 'no phone calls'. He pulled his chair up to the small desk and brushed his chatty platonic letter away, heedless of it skittering across and over the back of the desk. He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and stared at the blank page for a second, the image of her spread beneath him filling his mind's eye, her hair in wild chaos half across her face and half across the pillow. A salacious grin widened his mouth.

He wrote furiously for an age, punctuating his rhetoric with more scotch, until he'd filled a dozen pages with his untidy scrawl. When he finally pushed back on the chair his head was fuzzy and the room swam, but he felt really good for the first time in weeks. Every intimate thing he'd ever wanted to do to, with and for Brennan was written down in graphic detail. Every touch, every caress, kiss, lick, bite, every suck, every thrust. His chest was heaving as if he'd just performed the physical acts themselves and he knew on some level he should feel ashamed, but instead he felt exhilarated. Excruciatingly horny, but pretty damn good. And three quarters drunk. An unexpected headspin forced him to grab the edge of the desk for support. Make that four quarters drunk. He sniggered, inordinately pleased with himself, and meticulously folded the pages together and put them carefully on the desk.

As he staggered to his bunk and fell heavily into its horizontal embrace, his last conscious thought that he would really love to watch Bones' face when she read it.

~o0o~

Booth's head was pounding from the outside in; it'd been a long time since he'd hit the sauce like that. Wait, it wasn't just his head; someone was hammering on the door. He groaned and turned away from the sound but it didn't let up.

"Go away."

"Sergeant Major?" It was Evan Mackenzie, his corporal. The door opened a crack. "You've got twenty minutes to get over to TRADOC for the briefing with the Captain. Lieutenant Morales is already there; he sent me over." A disembodied arm appeared through the open door, a mug of coffee held outstretched in appeasement.

Booth opened his eyes cautiously, wincing at the sunlight that streamed through the narrow window. _Holy shit. _He took a deep breath and threw back the covers, hitting the ground running. He grabbed the coffee on the way to the bathroom and simultaneously barked orders over his shoulder at Mackenzie as he went.

The young corporal stood in the middle of the room, irresolute. He looked around him with interest; the sarge was pretty much a closed book to the squad. Well-liked, respected, even admired, but still an enigma; speculation about him had fuelled several afterhours drinking sessions. Mackenzie checked the bathroom door but he could still hear the shower running, so he took a few seconds to a nose around a bit. Some kid's farmyard toy figurine was on the shelf next to a couple photos of a little boy. Nephew, maybe? There weren't any other personal possessions on display, only an old FBI tee shirt that was draped over one of the cartons. Mackenzie backed off, filing that interesting titbit away to share with the squad over a beer tonight.

He spotted a letter and an envelope on the small desk under the window and he glanced over his shoulder one more time before gingerly picking it up. He peered at the address on the envelope; Dr T Brennan at some place called Seram Laut, Maluku. Just as he had his finger poised to unfold the pages, the bathroom door opened abruptly. Booth came out, tucking his sand coloured tee shirt into his trousers, his face like thunder. Mackenzie panicked, stuffing the letter mindlessly into the envelope, only relaxing when he realized that Booth was too distracted to notice what he'd been doing.

"Mail this for you, Sarge?" The close call made his tone ingratiating. Booth barely heard him, preoccupied as he was with the upcoming briefing and the concern of being late for it.

"Yeah, thanks." He snatched his tan beret from his bedside chest and shrugged on his ACU jacket, heading out the door without a second thought. "Let's go."

Mackenzie licked the flap, pressed it closed and slipped the letter into his breast pocket. Booth's fate was sealed.

~o0o~

**August 22****, 2010**

Booth let the door to his quarters swing closed behind him. He took a seat at the desk and just let the tiredness pool in his legs, amusing himself by pretending to undo the laces of his boots through the power of his mind, without actually having to bend over. He was bone weary and his back hurt. He jiggled his feet comically, on some level hoping it might work. Another tough day, only this time he'd been using brain power instead of muscle and he wasn't sure he preferred it. Too much time to think.

A triple rap on the door heralded mail, and he dropped his feet to the floor with a self conscious grin, feeling foolish. A dog-eared envelope came skittling through the gap under the door and crossed the floorboards to nudge his feet. When he saw the handwriting a wide smile lit his face, and he ripped the envelope open impatiently.

One folded sheet of paper, crowded with Brennan's tidy script on both sides, and a photo. He squinted at the pixilated snap; seems she didn't have access to a decent printer. He didn't recognize her at first. It was a group shot of about a dozen men and women stood around an open fire, drinks in their hands. Looked like they were celebrating something. Brennan stood to one side, slightly apart from the rest, looking down the camera lens unsmilingly. She had the Rangers tee shirt on. She looked … sad.

His eyes quickly scanned the letter. _Groundbreaking discovery … more skeletal remains …_ yadda yadda. Apparently Daisy Wick was driving her nuts, although Brennan used words like _perspicacious_ and _overweening _and_ magniloquent_. He could almost hear the disdain in her voice and he grinned despite himself. They'd had a threat of a cyclone but it had passed them by. She expressed a hope that Parker was performing well at school. She'd eaten a great many bananas which were growing wild all around the site and which coincidentally helped addressed the low selenium levels that geophysical analysis had revealed. Who knew?

Booth's grin turned to a frown as he read the last paragraph. Brennan wanted to know whether everything was okay with him and if he going to eventually write to her and tell her. Her request for news surprised him a little, since it was her idea to keep communications to a minimum. He smiled - maybe she was rethinking that whole idea? But then, he'd sent her a newsy letter a few weeks ago. Surely she would have received it by now? Mail shouldn't take more than two weeks to get through; he'd checked.

He tried to remember exactly when he'd sent it but he couldn't recall actually putting in the outgoing mail. A quick glance confirmed it wasn't on the desk. He pulled out a pile of papers and flicked though them but he didn't see it, so it must have gone. Something nagged at the back of his mind about it and his expression cleared as the memory of Mackenzie offering to post it came back to him. But, come to think of it, he didn't have a memory of actually putting the letter in the envelope … wait, didn't he see Mackenzie doing something like that? He cursed himself for the hangover that made that morning a blur.

His frown deepened as he tried to put the pieces together and then his heart rate slammed into overdrive as he remembered another, very explicit, very x-rated letter he'd written under the influence of some pretty decent scotch. Papers flew in every direction as he searched the desk top and the drawers and every other available hiding place for the missing letter. Nothing. He pulled the desk away from the wall an inch or two and peered myopically along the gap with a feeling akin to panic. He spotted the folded pages caught against the baseboard. He slid his arm along and grabbed the sheets of paper with a sigh of relief.

Brennan would never have understood about his motivation to write those things. Come to think of it, he wondered if Brennan would comprehend everything he'd suggested doing. His mind wandered off onto the particularly pleasant tangent of potentially filling in any gaps in her education. He spread out the pages on the desk, a little embarrassed to be reminded of the way his fantasies had been committed to paper.

He stared at the pages incredulously; nothing there to be embarrassed about. No siree. The pages were full of carefully composed newsy nothings that he'd thought she'd enjoy hearing about. Not one lewd suggestion.

Which meant the other letter must have gone …

"Oh, fuck."

~o0o~

**September 2, 2010**

He tried half a dozen times to call her over the next couple of weeks, to apologise before she got the letter and to tell her to tear it up, but nothing was getting through. He even tracked down Sweets and got Daisy Wick's email address, only to find out that Brennan had travelled to one of the tiny atolls that dotted the area and was incommunicado until her return.

He put his apology into a letter and sent it off with a heavy heart, wondering whether he'd get a reply or whether he'd really stuffed things up this time.

~o0o~

"Hey, Booth!" The voice boomed through the hum of conversation. A man mountain of a sergeant carved his way through the crowded mess to Booth's table. "You got a priority call over at the DFMWR Admin." The look he shot at Booth set a warning bell off in his brain. "You offend somebody important? They been looking for you all over the base." Booth's stomach flipped with nerves. Jesus, it must be bad. Fear cascaded through his body … Parker?

"What's going on? Is it my son? Has something happened to Parker?" He was already on his feet and heading towards the exit. The heavyset NCO caught up with him in three strides.

"No, man. Some lady professor in China or somewhere weird like that. Order came through the Colonel's office, you gotta take the call. She's on a secure State Department satellite video link that we're going to lose in -" the other man checked his watch impassively, "- twelve minutes, soldier." Booth had already left him behind.

Jesus Freakin' H Christ Mother of God, it was _Bones_. Booth's head pounded with anxiety. The Directorate of Family and Morale, Welfare and Recreation administration building was about a five minute hike along Sightseeing Road. He made it in three.

He burst through the door of the office and the clerk indicated a partitioned alcove with a nod of his head.

There she was, on the screen, lines of cosmic interference criss-crossing her gorgeous face. She looked skinnier than when he'd seen her last, but tanned too. Her hair was different. Perspiration dribbled down between her breasts, leaving a damp trail that drew his gaze automatically. Even over a distance of ten thousand miles and a crappy satellite connection she was still astonishingly beautiful. It almost hurt his eyes to look at her.

"Booth?" She looked pissed. She was still speaking but the sound had dropped out after she'd said his name. He looked around for some help, but the clerk had left the office. The screen emitted a high pitched squeal and the audio came back in abruptly, stronger than before.

"- even listening to me?" She was looking at him strangely.

"What? Yes, I'm listening. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"No, why?" She shook her head impatiently. "I'm fine. I said I got your letter."

It took a moment before guilt and remorse shot through him; in his anxiety he'd forgotten about that stupid obscene letter.

"Oh, Bones, I'm so sorry about that. I-" He scrunched his eyes up, embarrassed.

"I'm -" She started speaking but the sound dropped out again, and he bulldozed through the silence.

"- I was frustrated, angry. I missed you. Maybe I'd had a little too much to drink." He waited for the lecture that he knew was coming.

"Did you hear me, Booth? I've resigned from the project. I'm coming home."

"What?" He was dumbfounded; surely he'd misheard her.

"I'm coming back to the States." She reiterated, screwing her mouth to one side at his apparent inability to comprehend a straightforward statement.

"Bones, you said it yourself, it's the opportunity of a lifetime. It's really important for you to do this." His voice rose in his confusion.

"No, Booth, it isn't." Her eyes softened and she leaned in a little closer to the screen, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I have to take in nourishment, expel waste and breathe air. I've learned that for a human being, everything else is optional. That sort of turns everything I thought was important on its head." When he didn't respond immediately, a shadow of uncertainty crossed her face and her eyes widened. Uncharacteristically, she stumbled over her next words. "Unless you'd rather I didn't come back?"

"What? Are you serious – how can you think that?" Now that he'd taken in that she was really coming back, a huge grin split his face. "Are you going back to the Jeffersonian?"

"I figured, uh," She paused, catching her bottom lip between her teeth uncertainly, "I figured I'd come and stay with you for a while. Maybe just have some time with you before anyone needs to know I'm back. What do you think?"

Booth let out a yelp of sheer happiness, ignoring the faintly disapproving look she gave him. "Yes! Oh, man, yes! I can't wait to see you – when are you coming back?"

"I'll be in Atlanta in three days; I can get a direct flight there. Will you come to the airport and pick me up?" Again, that uncertainty. "It's a three hour drive from Benning."

"That doesn't matter - you know I will. I'd go to Maluku to put you on the plane if I thought it would get you here faster." He caught his breath and waited for his heart to start beating again.

"That would be irrational, Booth." There was his Bones, looking at him like he had a screw loose.

They spent a long moment just taking each other in, sharing a smile at what was happening between them.

"Bones," he asked gently, "What brought this on?"

"Your letter made me give careful consideration to our relationship." She took several deep breaths and his eyes were drawn inexorably towards the slow rise and fall of her breasts. "I had to accept the depth of the emotional pain that our separation has brought me, and acknowledge your importance in my life. And-"

He dragged his eyes up to meet hers. "And, what, Bones?"

She shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "There was no one I wanted to tell my stories to."

"Yeah. Me neither." He said softly. God, how he loved her.

He was surprised by the expression that crossed her face then; she looked almost playful. "I've also given careful consideration to the many and varied propositions outlined in your letter -" was that a twinkle in her eye? "- particularly paragraphs three, four, ten and sixteen, and I wanted to put you on notice that I am going to take you up on those as soon as I'm able. And just for your information, I don't believe the scenario you described in your penultimate paragraph is actually physically possible, but I'm willing to test your hypothesis. Those in the rest of your letter can wait for now."

Booth swallowed hard at the promise in her voice. "Won't be much of a wait if I get my way."

Her expression sobered, a ray of sunlight from the east sending her features into sharp relief. "Booth, I've realized that I'm not happy when I'm not with you. I don't want us to be apart again."

A slow smile spread across his face and he felt the prick of moisture at the back of his eyes. "What took you so long, Bones?"

A voice off screen muttered something and she nodded. She turned back to him, looking vaguely discomfited, and she took a moment to frame her next words. "Booth, there's something you need to know." She gave him a look that melted his heart, a haunting mix of tenderness and contrition. "Booth, I never thought I'd say this, but I love -"

The screen went black; the sat time had expired, but Booth was unconcerned.

He'd get to hear the rest of that sentence in person soon enough.

The End

* * *

Seriously - anyone fancy an epilogue to this? Just let me know :D


	2. Epilogue

_A/N: Heartfelt thanks to Faux Maven for her beta help and patience! Thanks to Temper Temper and Anne Nonymous for encouragement and inspiration. Side note to cathmarchr: there's a little something in here for especially you, bloss - miss you! ;P _

_This is pure fluff - hope you enjoy :D_

_Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)_

* * *

Spice Trade: The Epilogue

* * *

Booth let the pads of his fingers rest lightly on the clear acrylic shield that formed a protective barrier around the boulder-sized sculpture. On one level, he appreciated that the artist appeared to be trying to convey some sort of inner struggle, but on the other hand it looked just like a big rock with some polished bits. The concourse at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport thrummed with people, some of them coming, some of them going, some of them just there to enjoy the art exhibit that changed every few months. Booth was there just trying to stay calm.

Brennan's flight was delayed and the customer service agents weren't willing to guess when – or even if – it would be landing in Atlanta. Two storm fronts had collided over Utah, forcing the plane to reroute around the wall of turbulence and there was even a chance the plane would be diverted to another airport. Booth pressed his lips together, irritation eating into his calm facade. For ten thousand miles and thirty-one and a half hours the plane had managed to stay on track and on schedule, and she gets delayed in US air space. His heart plummeted to his gut as a terrible thought occurred to him: what if she hadn't even gotten on the plane? He hadn't heard a word since the satellite link-up, apart from a message passed to him via DFMWR Admin with the flight details. But that was a good sign, right? He pushed himself away from the clear plastic wall, watching the film of moisture left by his fingertips ebb back into nothing.

A family of four finished their lunch and vacated a nearby bench, shedding taco crumbs as they left. Booth sprawled onto the meager seat cushions gratefully. If he stretched his neck a little to the left he could still see the screen with arrival and departure information. Over his right shoulder he just caught the moving walkway that disgorged weary travelers onto the concourse. No way would he miss her from here. His leg jiggled nervously and he took a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh. God, he hoped this went well.

He'd had three days to work himself into a lather of anxiety, wondering whether Brennan had changed her mind. Turns out one day would have been plenty enough time for his apprehension to overtake his anticipation. He'd spent most of the time trying to tamp down his expectations. He knew she loved him, he just knew it, but the next few days … God only knew what would happen between them. He swore to himself that he'd take it easy; let things play out as they would …

Booth let his head fall back, irritation creasing his brow. He did a double take as he saw a line of football-sized ants ascending a column, and his eyes followed their static trail across the ceiling incredulously until he realised they were cast metal and somebody's idea of art. He shut his eyes on the quirky exhibit with an ill-humored grunt, letting the cacophony that surrounded him back off until it was just a rumbling murmur. The muscles across his shoulders were corded with tension and he drew on an old sniper trick, tensing and relaxing each muscle group until his whole body was at ease. It worked too well and his eyes drifted closed, his edginess from the last couple of days finally catching up with him. He catnapped lightly; a soldier waiting, his senses on hold.

He was dreaming of picnics and laughter and Brennan's hair spread out across the blanket … and humongous ants. Something tickled his nose. His eyes snapped open.

"Hey." Her breath fanned his face.

"Bones? You're here."

"Where else would I be? I just flew in from Indonesia. Or, more accurately, Denpasar then Singapore then Tokyo and now here." She had dark circles under her eyes that contrasted dramatically against the blue grey of her irises, making them almost too bright to look at. Booth was rooted to the spot, his mouth gaping slightly; her pedantic self-correction barely registering on his astonished brain. Brennan frowned at him: she'd been hoping for a little more enthusiasm. "Booth?"

"No – I mean -" Booth gathered his senses, shooting to his feet and almost knocking her over in the process. His eyes danced over her crumpled clothes and untidy hair, checking arms and legs and finding her whole, before finally landing on her face. He drank in her familiar features eagerly, a grin splitting his face. They stood a few inches apart, each unable to break away from the other's gaze, both a little shy of one another. Slowly Brennan's lips curled delicately into a smile and the impasse was shattered as they fell into each other, reacting to a force more compelling than gravity.

"Temperance." He folded her into his embrace, his heart constricted by the depth of emotion he felt. She was _really_ here. She was really _here_. She felt thin, almost insubstantial, until her arms reached over his back, returning his embrace, and the wiry strength of them reassured him. Brennan laid her cheek against his neck, and he felt the moist warmth of tears. "Bones?" His voice held a soft question and she nuzzled further into him without answering. "What's this, tears from my logical, rational scientist?" He teased her gently, barely getting the words past the lump in his throat.

She lifted her face then, her eyes still wet, and trailed whisper soft kisses along his jawline, but when she reached the corner of his mouth she stopped. Booth didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath, but when she hesitated, just for that second, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Don't you dare stop, Temperance Brennan. You're killing me."

"That's physiologically impossible," she growled against his lips. "Sexual frustration is not life threatening."

"It is if it's between you and me." He tightened his grip on her, crushing her torso against his chest, and this time she was the one who was left breathless. She watched in fascination as his smile deepened into a grimace and when he spoke his voice broke on a soft moan. "I've been on a slow burn for I don't know how long. If you don't kiss me soon, I _will_ die of wanting you." Finally she slid her mouth across his, her lips soft and full, trembling against his. He kissed her long and hard and she wound her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, at the same time running her other hand down the centre of his back. He could feel the fullness of her breasts pressing insistently against his chest. _Oh God_. With a jolt he realised that she wasn't wearing a bra and the knowledge sent him into a spin. They both lost themselves in sensation, forgetting where they were for a long moment. It was Booth who pulled back first, reluctantly, muttering something incoherent about still being in public.

Brennan let her hands slide down his chest, palms flat as though she was trying to memorize the contours of his flesh beneath the fabric of his uniform. Her fingers snagged on the breast pockets and she traced the letters of his name with one finger, frowning at the black stenciled characters as if they were cuneiform that she had to translate. "I've missed you." She kept her eyes downcast, her lashes shielding their expression.

Booth swallowed hard. "Me too, Bones, me too. There were times I wasn't sure that I'd ever see you again."

Her eyes shot to his. "That was never in doubt, Booth. Regardless of how much distance we put between us I've known for a long time that I would always want you to be a permanent part of my life, in whatever capacity that had to be. There's always been something between us that's unique – something that I've never felt with any other person. For so long that confused me. I -" again she dropped her gaze, "I have found it difficult to accept that I might need anyone else in my life."

Booth was touched to hear her say those things; he was reminded again of how far Brennan had come, not only in distance but in personal growth. He wanted to tell her it would be fine, that everything was going to be okay, but he held his tongue. He knew the road ahead might be rocky – they held such different views of the world - but she was here now and that was all that mattered.

"When you wrote and told me they were sending you back to the States, my first thought was that you would be disappointed. I know you saw your duty as being in Afghanistan, training men on the front line, saving lives." She gave him a look that melted his heart. "But objectively I wasn't sorry. I was relieved that you were going to be safe, out of the line of fire. The whole time you were over there, all I could think of was how you would never change; you'd always be the hero. I needed to know that you were safe and that you'd be there, as you always have been, for me." She went on haltingly, "If there's one thing that I learned from all of this it's that, although it doesn't make sense on any scientific level, you and I are - " Here she struggled for words to express what was, to her, still an alien concept.

"Soul mates?" he asked, only half joking.

Brennan smiled wryly at him but chose not to dispute his suggestion. "Angela said something to me when I left Washington. She said she hoped I'd find something that changed my perception of what it means to be human. I just now realised she didn't mean _Homo flurensiensis._ She meant you … us."

"Angela is a very wise woman."

"No doubt she will take a great deal of pleasure in reminding you of that fact when we're back home in DC." _Back home in DC._ Her words brought them gently back to the present and nudged them ever so slightly into their future. They shared a look of awareness that unnerved them both.

Booth watched the expression in Brennan's eyes shift from wariness to warmth and then morph into something approaching wantonness. A smile crossed her face but still he was unprepared for what she said next.

"Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to find a hotel? I have a letter in my purse that posits a large number of scenarios and it seems logical to get a start on those without delay." She was already gathering her things, her eyes sparkling. "How much time do we have before you go back on duty?"

Booth should have known better than to be surprised by her bluntness, but he didn't need any more encouragement. "C'mon, it's all taken care of. I've got a three day pass before the new intakes arrive." He smiled. "_And_ I've got somewhere way better than a hotel." He ignored her questioning look, grabbing her wrist with one hand and her backpack with the other. "Is this all you've got?" At her nod he set out determinedly, leading her through the crowded concourse like a man on a mission, which of course is exactly what he was.

~o0o~

Brennan was looking around with interest, watching the sprawling suburbs of Columbus flash by as they got closer to their destination.

She'd dozed on and off for most of the long drive back to Fort Benning, chatting in a desultory fashion about inconsequential things whenever Booth spoke to her. As if by tacit agreement they skirted the big issues, happy just to be together. She fell into a light doze an hour or so out of Atlanta, not even noticing when Booth turned the radio on low, letting the soft music lull her even further into sleep.

Now she spotted a checkpoint up ahead and squinted in the glare of the late afternoon sun, trying to read the sign: Fort Benning Maneuver Center of Excellence. She could just make out the shape of a tall tower, and see the insect-like figures of the parachutists practicing their trade on the far side of the sprawling military installation. The unmistakable pop, pop, pop of automatic rifle fire reached her ears then, the discordant sound muffled by distance.

"So that's Fort Benning? It's very … big." She craned her neck to look further down the wide avenue that led to the Infantry Hall, curiosity about this other life Booth had been leading without her lending eagerness to her voice. He couldn't help smiling at the back of her head, her ponytail swinging this way and that as she tried to take in everything. "What's that statue?"

"You mean Iron Mike?" Booth used the affectionate nickname for the 'Follow Me' statue that represented the infantry presence on the base. A second later it disappeared from sight as he drove past the checkpoint and along the base perimeter.

"Is that the name of a general or some high ranking official who has distinguished himself in war?"

"Nuh-uh. Not exactly." He kept driving, keeping an eye on the street names. "All those kind of statues are called Iron Mike. It's a thing."

Brennan smiled quizzically, but let it go. "Where are we going?" She placed a careless hand high on Booth's thigh, and wondered idly why the car veered a little from its path. She looked at him with mild curiosity but he kept his eyes front and center and refrained from comment.

He cleared his throat, letting the hint of a secretive smile play around his mouth. "You'll see. Look for 101st Airborne Road." Brennan made out the road and they turned into it, following a wide arc. The housing became more spread out until it gave way to open scrub. Booth turned one last time and pulled up at another gateway. There was a sign out the front: Uchee Creek Army Campground & Marina.

"We're going … camping?" Brennan's tone was doubtful.

"Trust me on this, Bones. You're going to love it." He was obviously excited at the prospect and she bit down on her disappointment; all those months under canvas in Maluku had left her longing for a comfortable bed and a proper bath. Booth jumped out of the rental and went into the country store that served as the office. She looked around in dismay at the motor homes and tents crowding the immediate area and then smiled ruefully. Did it really matter where they were, as long as she was with Booth? She relaxed back into the car seat, tiredness threatening to overwhelm her again.

Brennan was vaguely aware of the car moving but didn't actually stir until Booth placed a gentle hand of her shoulder. "We're here."

She looked around; gone were the tents and RVs and the noise of other campers. Booth had pulled the car up at a log cabin, a covered deck skirting each side. The only sounds she could hear were the tick of the cooling engine and the churr-churr-brrrt of a woodpecker calling to its mate. A lazy breeze shifted the Southern pines in time with its call.

"Booth, this is beautiful." Surprise skirted the edges of her voice.

"I told you. Didn't I tell you?" He rubbed his hands together with glee and led her up the front stairs and around to the wide deck at the back. A series of splashes drew their eyes to the water that lapped at the shore of the river and they watched as a blue heron soared above them, it's neck bent for flight in the shape of an 's' and its wings outstretched five or six feet.

Brennan laughed with delight. "It's all so lovely. I know it isn't an accurate statement because I just saw other campers, but it feels like we have it all to ourselves." She slipped her arm around his waist, enjoying the thrill of possessiveness that surged through her. It was still a novelty to have this level of casual contact legitimized. "How did you find this place?"

"It's the jewel of Muscogee County, Bones. One of the Army's better kept secrets."

"The Army?"

"The camp is mostly used by families visiting their soldiers." He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently into him as he said it. "Like you."

"Are you saying that I am your family, Booth?"

"Yes." He kept his eyes on the water while he waited for her response.

"Good." With a satisfied nod she led the way into dark interior of the cabin. The large open plan living room was spotless and welcoming. A faint hum confirmed that someone had been here and turned on the air conditioning so that the interior was comfortably cool. There was a bunch of flowers – daisies – in a jam jar on the kitchen counter and another on the casual table; a posy shoved uncomfortably into a large coffee mug. A bag of groceries on the counter and half a dozen thick towels on a side bench. Several bottles of her favorite red wine were racked nearby. There were touches everywhere that spoke of his thoughtfulness. She turned to Booth and smiled with pleasure.

He felt a little self-conscious. "I wanted to, you know, make you feel welcome."

She came to him then and wound her arms around his neck. "I feel very welcomed." She tilted her head slightly, unconsciously offering her lips to him, and he took up her offer. They clung together for timeless moments, mapping by touch what they'd each spent years trying to memorize from a distance.

"I was really worried you wouldn't turn up, you know." Booth finally confessed.

Brennan's brows drew together, concerned that he had been worried, that she had left any doubt in his mind. "Booth, you should know me by now – once I make up my mind about something I rarely see the need to reverse that opinion." She raised herself up on her toes and nibbled at his ear, absorbing the clean scent of him that always helped restore her equilibrium.

"Bones, I need to get something off my chest." She shifted slightly, resettling her body to align more closely with his. "That night at your apartment, when we … got together … I'm sorry I just left the way I did." He'd replayed that scene over and over in his head so much it still felt like yesterday. He wasn't proud of the way he'd acted, but he recognized it was simple self preservation that had sent him running.

"Booth, no, don't be sorry. It was the right thing to do. I was … we were -" The rational anthropologist was flustered, remembering the frantic, primal heat that passed between them just before they'd parted ways all those months ago. She fell back on old habits and tried to smokescreen her discomfiture with science. "It was merely a neuroendocrine response to situational stimuli. We were both heading into dangerous environments and thus it was a time of heightened emotional construct. Studies have shown conclusively -"

Booth wasn't going to play that game anymore. "Do you really believe that? Do you believe that you and I fucking like that, like we were trying to crawl inside each other, meant nothing other than some animalistic response, brain chemicals, whatever?" There was something that felt righteous about needling her like this, forcing an answer. Damn if he was going to let her retreat into that comfortably familiar haze of denial she liked to take refuge in whenever he asked the hard questions.

Her hands stilled in their exploration of his back. She felt his tension through her fingertips and sensed the import of the moment, but she didn't know how to give him the answer he wanted. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, so she only had one way to deal with it; honestly.

"No." The word was merely a husky whisper on the air that Booth had to bend his head to hear.

He pushed a little harder. "So, what did it mean? Tell me, Bones, what did it mean?"

Brennan found her eyes filming with moisture and she steeled herself to look up at him, directing her unwavering gaze straight into his soul. "Everything." The word tumbled out of her mouth despite the barrier of her brain and stunned them both.

Booth groaned at the raw emotion in her eyes and silently thanked God this gamble had paid off. He watched the dawning realization spread across her features.

"Everything, Booth." Her face shone with wonder at the truth of her statement. She grinned widely, for the first time in her life accepting without question the paradigm shift her heart had just made.

He let out a whoop of joy and lifted her up, swinging her around. Their lips met and the passion they shared flared instantly into a firestorm of lust.

"I can't wait any longer." Brennan's voice was frayed, her hands scrabbling at his jacket front as she toed off her boots. "How the hell do these things open?" She got her fingernails under the Velcro front closure and pulled it undone with a deeply satisfying ripping noise. The zipper slipped open on its own as she pulled the two sides of his jacket apart. She splayed her hands over his chest, eliciting a muffled groan that deepened when she pulled the soft sand colored tee shirt from the waistband of his cargo pants and followed the trail of her fingers with her mouth.

Booth smoothed her hair with one hand as the tension burst across his groin and he felt the muscles across his chest and abdomen ping in response to the impatient ministrations of her lips and teeth. He wanted so much to touch every part of her but he was almost overwhelmed by a feverish hunger that left him weak. God, it felt so good to be here, with Bones. Making love. His hands found their way to her breasts, teasing him through the fabric of her shirt, and she broke contact long enough to shrug off the light cotton jacket she'd worn all day. When he felt and saw her nipples through the thin knit of her sleeveless top, something snapped inside him.

With a groan he pushed her gently backwards onto the sofa, letting himself down slowly until he was crouched on the floor between her bent knees. She was watching his every move with an anticipatory gleam in her eye; a slight smile curved her lips. Booth pulled blindly at the toggles on his boots and slipped them off, tossing them to one side. She ran her tongue along her top teeth and adrenaline coursed through him at the sight. Its trail left a fine tremor in his hands as he reached out to touch her. He took a deep breath, willing himself to slow down. With deliberate movements he placed his palms on her thighs, smoothing the creases from her lightweight jeans, running his hands upwards and feeling the long muscles of her legs jump in response to his touch. He felt the heat of her through the lightweight fabric and he was mesmerized.

"You never cease to amaze me. You're so utterly beautiful, it terrifies me."

Brennan's laugh was uncertain and the fingers of one hand touched the neckline of her top absently. "I scare you?"

"Through and through, right to the bone." He grinned at her, making sure she knew he was joking. He ran his hands under her top, up and around her diaphragm, relishing the soft, warm sweep of the underside of her breasts against the backs of his hands as he explored further. "Hmm, soft and yielding underneath." Her breath caught and held, waiting for him to continue his journey upwards, but instead he swept his palms across her back and downwards. "Strong, but … I don't know … kind of fragile at the same time." His fingers came to rest on her hips; he was blown away by how tiny she felt under the wide span of his hands. He played with the button at the waist of her jeans with his thumbs, all the while studying her face. His temperate exploration was abruptly halted when Brennan grabbed his wrists, the sound of her breathing ragged and rasping in response to his touch.

"I won't break, Booth." She pulled him forward roughly and caught his torso between her thighs, startling him with the amount of pressure she managed to exert against his ribs. Her touch on his face when she cradled his cheek with her hand was feather soft in contrast. "Will you?"

The blood pounded in his head at the challenge those two words held and he lost the power of speech. All at once her hands were everywhere; touching, grasping, feeling. She slipped her arms around his neck, urging him up and closer and he let himself fall into her softness.

"Am I still scary?" she wanted to know, her teeth nipping tender places under his chin that sent him wild, before drawing his face down to hers. She focused her attention on his lips, unable to tear her eyes away from the shape of his mouth, a mouth she'd watched express so many emotions over all those years. She pressed her lips against his, her searching kiss eloquently expressing her hunger and need.

Booth returned the pressure of her mouth eagerly, running his tongue along the sensitive inner edge of her upper lip, his hands threaded through her hair. Her groan in response was his reward. He pulled back and smiled at her fondly. "Never more so. You're a total threat to my sanity."

She paused and looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. "I don't believe that you mean that literally, but I'm not so sure."

"It means, Dr Temperance Bones Brennan, that I will go totally nuts if you don't come to bed with me soon."

Brennan's smile widened, her face alight with pleasure. "That's an acceptable course of action." She let Booth pull her to her feet but then twisted in his arms, taking the lead. She held on to his hand with both of hers, spinning around towards the closest bedroom and pulling him behind her. He stumbled slightly, surprised by her strength. He had a feeling that there were going to be plenty of surprises tonight and he couldn't wipe the grin from his face at the thought.

They tumbled onto the bed, sending pillows flying, their laughter and delight at being together echoing through the rooms. Brennan straddled his hips, pinning him down as she peeled off her top. He matched her move and stripped his tee shirt off, eager to feel her, flesh against flesh. He took his time admiring the heavy fullness of her breasts and ran his hands slowly down her sides to her hips. Brennan's eyes drifted half-closed at his touch and she flexed her back as his hands moved across her ass. His erection pressed against her and she leaned towards him, her breasts grazing his chest, and he groaned as the movement of her hips caused him actual pain. She made a small impatient noise when she felt the hardness of his arousal and her hands scrabbled at the webbing belt of his uniform.

"Just wait, Tem." He placed his large hands over her smaller ones, trying to still their frenetic movement, but she pushed him away roughly.

"I don't want to wait." Brennan was breathing hard, as if she'd run a marathon. She frowned, concentrating on her task. "I've waited too long." With a few deft movements of her fingers she flipped the clasp of his belt and attacked the button at the waist of his trousers, staring almost dumbly at it when the fly stayed firmly closed.

"There's a drawstring, Tem." Booth leaned back and put his hands beneath his head, feigning far more restraint than he actually felt. In reality his skin burned at the merest glancing touch of her fingers, but the prospect of those talented fingers going to work on his clothes kept him still. "Drawstrings on the cuffs as well." Smug satisfaction colored his tone; her fervor both amused and excited him but this time he was damn sure they were going to take things nice and slow. The intricacies of his uniform seemed to be the only thing that was stalling her at the moment.

"Oh, of course." She went to untie the knot but her hands stilled, hovering over her target. "Wait, what did you call me?"

"Tem." He ran his hands down her arms, tensing slightly. The diminutive of her name had just slipped out from his subconscious; _Tem_ had inhabited his dreams since he'd met her, every bit as much as _Bones_ had occupied his days. "Don't you like it?"

"No one's ever called me that." She tipped her head to one side as she contemplated it and then she smiled at him, her eyes wide. "Actually I like it very much. Almost as much as when you call me Bones."

Booth relaxed, the warmth of her smile reassuring him. "I thought you hated that?"

"I accepted that it was a nickname, and sobriquets are often given as a measure of affection. Besides, only you call me Bones. That's what I like about it."

"Well, _Tem_ -" he closed the gap between them, suddenly impatient for the satiny warmth of her skin against his. "Then that's something that really is just between us, when we're together like this." She looked disconcerted at the possessiveness in his tone. Then her face cleared as she considered the implications. She found that she was not disturbed in any sense by her conclusions.

"What should I call you?" She asked hesitatingly, a little out of her depth.

He nuzzled her jaw, his tongue following the sinews of her neck. He felt her shiver as he continued to leave a trail of feather light kisses along her collar bone. Clavicle. The term sprang into his mind out of nowhere and he smiled ruefully. "Anything you like, babe. As long as when I wake up in the morning, you're here next to me."

"Booth, that's irrational." Her voice was husky, and the need to set him straight niggled at her. "The power to accurately predict the future doesn't exist, except mathematically, so I am unable to make any sort of guarantee that -" He smothered her demur with his kiss, extracting a promise from her mouth that her brain had difficulty justifying.

Brennan's nails raked his back, leaving stinging trails of sensation; all thoughts of taking his time disintegrated into nothing. Excitement surged in every part of his body and when Brennan wound her arms tightly around him, he felt lust rip through his gut. He needed to be inside her. Now.

"God, Tem, I want you so much it hurts." This time it was his turn to fumble at the waist of her jeans. They slipped off easily, but his fingers were thick and useless when he tried to undo the drawstring of his own trousers. Brennan artlessly leaned in and used her teeth to loosen the knot, her hands clasping his hips. Booth felt the breath freeze in his chest as she gave a little shake of her head to break the grip of the knotted cord. A low moan escaped his clenched teeth. Brennan looked up along his body, and their eyes met with a jolt of awareness.

With a muffled snarl of impatience he stripped off the rest of his clothes, growling as the drawstring on the cuffs of his cargo pants snagged on his feet. He pulled them off roughly without bothering to untie them. He tumbled her over until she was pinned beneath him, egged on by the eagerness shining on her face. Finally all the barriers were gone and they looked at each other, a little in awe of the moment.

Then Brennan's gaze snagged on his mouth and her expression altered. Abruptly her hands were on his body, exploring by touch, her fingers nimble and quick. There wasn't anywhere that her hands didn't reach, so eager was she to feel the texture and warmth of him. Her fervour caught him unawares and it took a few seconds before he responded, before they were in sync. They kissed and touched and tasted, studying each other through tactile exploration.

"Damn, Tem, I don't think I can keep this up for much longer. I need you now."

"Then don't wait." She opened to him then, wordlessly, her eyes fierce with heat … for him. That knowledge almost took him over the edge then and there and he surged into her, riding on a tide of emotion so raw it hurt.

Her body rose to meet his and their eyes locked together, each bemused by the jumbled mixture of feelings that engulfed them then. Brennan's eyes searched his, vulnerability and desire flitting across her face. He understood; he felt the same way. They had been a part of each other for so long, held at arm's length. This moment of their coming together took their breath away; a maelstrom of feelings that threatened to overwhelm them.

The staccato of her breathing began to accelerate and a low moan escaped from her lips; an incendiary to his desire. Moments … hours? … later he felt her shudder as convulsions took hold of her and she called his name, and then he felt himself start to come apart.

He clasped her to him, never wanting to let go, as their movements slowed and calmed. Their bodies relaxed but they didn't move apart. Brennan peppered his chest with soft endearments, carried on breathless kisses as Booth's heart rate slowly returned to normal. He was flooded with a strong sense of completeness that swept through him. It felt so right to be here with this woman, his lover, his love. He looked at Brennan and found her smiling happily at him, replete.

Pleasure and contentment swelled inside him and he laughed out loud at the world. "Argh – why do I feel an overwhelming urge to roar like a caveman?"

Brennan drew his face to hers, her hand cupping his cheek. The kiss she gave him was gentle and sweet, and the huskiness of her voice belied her next words. "Men are genetically programmed to consider themselves the protector of their mates." She was still panting, trying to get her breath back but couldn't ignore the urge to matter-of-factly clarify his impulse. "Also, higher testosterone concentrations are present following a period of sexual abstinence. Added to that, fluctuating concentrations of adrenaline, noradrenaline, cortisol, prolactin and luteinizing hormone are liable to increase protective, risk-taking and aggressive behaviors in adult males."

"Ah Bones, can you maybe keep the science stuff out of the bedroom." Booth rolled his eyes at her but couldn't resist a smile.

"It's who I am; I was only stating the facts. You asked a question and I gave you the answer." She yawned widely, snuggling into his side. "You know, I always wondered whether you were as much of a prude about sexual matters as you appeared to be. I now have evidentiary proof that is definitely not the case."

Booth was stretching his cramped muscles but her words stilled the movement. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her even closer. "I never liked talking to you about sex, Tem, because I always wanted to be the one you were having sex with. Besides, its private … between two people."

"Well, I think the subject might come up between us with a great deal more frequency from now on." He felt her smile against his neck. "And maybe I won't have to be quite so dependent on Angela for ideas about the sex scenes in my next book. Your letter provided me with enough source material for several books. All I have to do now is complete a sufficient amount of research to supply me with irrefutable empirical results."

~o0o~

Booth woke abruptly, the grumbling in his stomach reminding him it had been hours since either of them had eaten. Brennan was curled on her side, turned away from him. He propped himself up on one arm and let his eyes trace her outline, limned in silver by the moonlight. He couldn't see her face properly, only one rounded cheek and those impossibly long, thick lashes. Her hair was spread riotously over the pillow, in total disarray, and Booth couldn't help a sappy grin at the memory of the passion they'd shared that helped get it that way. She had her hands bunched pugilistically in front of her face, ready for anything, even in sleep.

Something disturbed her dreams and she made a tiny fretful sound. Booth held his breath, and her sigh ended on a whimper. He scooted closer to her, concerned, but before he could reassure her with his touch she rolled towards him, whispered his name and curled into him. She was still fast asleep. He pulled the sheet up and tucked it gently around her and slipped out of bed.

He padded to the kitchen and raided the refrigerator, loading a plate with meats and salads they'd picked up along the way. Propping himself on a stool at the kitchen counter he was about to start digging into his midnight feast when he heard Brennan call his name.

She appeared at the door of the bedroom. "What are you doing, Booth?" Her hair was a confusion of waves and she'd pulled on his tee shirt to cover her nakedness, her long legs bare and pale gold, stretching on forever. Booth thought his heart just might stop at the picture she made standing there in the half light, all tousled and sated and thoroughly fucked. He was overtaken by a sense of pride that he'd put that look on her face, but as soon as the thought occurred to him he was embarrassed by the arrogance of it.

He cleared his throat to cover his confusion and indicated the plate of food in front of him with a wave of his fork. "You hungry?" Before she could answer he was on his feet, spooning generous servings of salads out onto another plate. "Sit down and eat something; you're wasting away to nothing. Didn't they feed you at that dig in Mabubu?" Now he had his arm at her back and was ushering her towards the counter.

"Maluku." She corrected him automatically, looking slightly bemused by his attentions. She was going to resist his urging but then gave in gracefully when she saw the contents of the plate. "Actually, I am pretty hungry. But you know you don't have to look after me like this. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."

"I like looking after you." Booth settled her onto another stool and dropped a light kiss on top of her head. He grabbed an extra knife and fork and a napkin and placed them next to her plate before bending over the wine rack and running his finger along the bottles.

"You do?" Brennan's top lip started to curl, her smile infused with doubt. He made his selection, an Australian Shiraz that he knew she was fond of. She continued uncertainly, "Is that your 'White Knight' syndrome that Sweets is always talking about?"

Booth was preoccupied with the corkscrew. "No. It's my 'I'm in love with you' syndrome that we haven't actually got around to talking about yet." He shut his mouth with snap. What was it about middle of the night conversations that always cut through the crap?

Brennan kept her eyes downcast, toying idly with the food he'd so carefully selected for her. He sighed and poured a glass of wine for each of them, the sound of the ruby liquid hitting the bottom of the glass preternaturally loud in the silence that followed his words.

"Bones, talk to me. You were about to say something on that sat link last Tuesday. Something really important." He reminded her gently. His heart plummeted to his gut when she was obviously discomfited by his prompting, struggling to find the right words to answer him. "Have you changed your mind?"

Brennan's eyes shot to his. "What? No!"

"Then what?" He tried to keep the impatience out of his voice but failed.

"Booth, please -"

"Bones, do you love me?" It was time for some straight talking. He felt like a heel forcing the issue, but they'd danced around each other for too long and he couldn't bear to watch her wrestling with her emotions like this.

"You deserve more than I can give you Booth, you need someone with an open heart and I don't know how to be that person. I'm scared I don't know how to change."

"I don't want you to change. I like you just the way you are." He put his hand over hers then, rubbing his thumb along the inside of her wrist. He felt her tremble under his touch.

He drew a deep breath and asked her again. "_Do you love me?_" He kept his gaze locked onto hers, watching her steadily from under his brows and involuntarily holding his breath while he waited for her answer.

Her voice was husky when she replied, a tremulous smile gentling the lines of anxiety from her face. "Yes, Booth. I love you. But I -" He put a finger to her lips to shush her, and followed the touch with his lips. He realised she was still battling to understand her feelings, but tiredness was etched on her face. Time to take the pressure off; she said she loved him and, let's face it, they both needed a little time to get used saying that out loud.

"That's a good thing, okay? Don't look so worried." He leaned in to her until their noses were virtually touching, sending her slightly cross-eyed and making her smile despite herself. "And I love you and that's all that matters. Look, its two o'clock in the morning Georgia time. I have no idea what that is in Makukoo -"

"Maluku."

" time but you must be exhausted. I don't know about you, but I think we need just to relax. What say we take this feast I prepared here out on the deck and look at the stars? Everything looks better under the stars. We'll have a little food and we'll have a little wine and we'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Okay?"

"I'm scared of letting you down, Booth." Her brow was still crisscrossed with worry.

"Ain't going to happen, baby. We're already way out in front of the herd." He swaggered a little as he said it, hamming it up for her to ease the mood, and was rewarded when she started to chuckle at his antics. He came around and looped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into the comfort of his embrace. "C'mon. I know all this is overwhelming for you, but I honestly believe it's all going to work out fine, Bones. Trust me on this, okay? You made it this far, the rest is going to be easy."

Brennan was watching him closely. "You know, I once asked your friend, Sergeant Nakamura, whether it was worth it to have your own happiness so contingent upon another human being." She looked away from him and he watched the smile fade from her face, replaced by a tiny frown that dented a 'v' between her brows as she remembered the context of that conversation.

"Yeah?" He placed a finger under her chin and raised her face up to his. "And what did Nak have to say?"

"He said if he was willing to give up his life for his sister, why wouldn't he be willing to risk his happiness for her." She gave him a look that grazed his soul. "If I trust you with my life, Booth, how can I not trust you with my heart?" He hugged her again, touched to the core by the uncomplicated simplicity of her reasoning.

They settled themselves on the swinging chair on the rear deck, stealing from each other's plates and letting the starlight work its magic, ably assisted by the wine. A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with the sounds of frogs and owls and the occasional ominous splash from the other side of the lake.

Suddenly Brennan touched Booth's arm, motioning him to stay still and quiet. A white- tailed buck and its mate hesitantly approached the circle of light that spilled from the cabin. Then incredibly, a huge swamp rabbit, its rusty brown fur still damp from the lake paused on its foraging expedition to watch them curiously, before hopping away, disinterested. The movement was enough to startle the deer, sending them hastily back into the night. Before Booth could comment, an armadillo and its half grown pups waddled into sight, snuffling the ground blindly in search of insects to feast on.

"You've got to be kidding me." Booth whispered incredulously. "How did we get in the middle of a Disney movie?

"Huh?" Brennan was too enthralled to take in his question.

"Never mind." The armadillo and its young entourage ambled towards them, apparently detecting no threat. Booth leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Damn but they're ugly things; look at that armor plating." The armadillo apparently took offence at his comment and lumbered off, seeking the cover of nearby bushes.

"Ossification – the laying down of bone just beneath the skin that forms the hard shell – takes place as they grow." Brennan whispered back, enjoying the novelty of seeing these strange creatures up close.

Booth grinned at her, captivated by her enthusiasm for the animals. Ever the scientist Brennan felt obliged to add, "You know armadillos often carry leprosy. Their low body temperature and weak immune systems make them perfect hosts for the _M. leprae bacilli_."

Booth pulled back as if he'd been bitten and looked at Brennan in disbelief. "No way!"

She pursed her lips, looking back at him archly. "Way."

He stood up hastily, "Yeah, well I think I've had enough of the great outdoors anyway." He scratched frantically at an insect bite on his forearm, drawing blood. "The mosquitoes are eating me alive. Aren't they eating you alive?" He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her towards the back door. "I think it's about time for us to get some sleep anyway." He edged towards the back door of the cabin, gesturing with his hand for her to follow him.

Brennan couldn't help laughing. "There's nothing to worry about, Booth. You need an open wound or prolonged contact, poor hygiene and a complete lack of treatment to be even the slightest bit concerned about infection. Besides, only ten percent of the human population is genetically susceptible to infection from the bacteria." She tilted her head to one side as she considered the facts. "Of course, it hasn't yet been irrefutably proven exactly how the infection spreads."

Brennan heard the screen door snick closed and a few moments later the sound of running water as Booth got under the shower.

An idea popped into her head, and with it her tiredness evaporated. The smile that crept over her face was decidedly mischievous. "Hey, Booth." She raised her voice slightly to get his attention, the wine and jet lag adding more volume than she'd intended. She could hear his tuneless humming through the spray.

"What, Tem?" He resumed the humming, the shower mercifully muffling the song.

She leaned a shoulder against the side of the cabin and spoke to him through the screen door. "I'm not really very sleepy anymore. I think I'm ready to attempt the scenario expressed in the penultimate paragraph of your letter."

The steady beat of water as it hit the floor of the cubicle filled the air while Booth gathered his senses. When he answered his voice was strangled by shock. "Um, I thought you said it was physically impossible."

Brennan's tone dropped to sultry. "I'm willing to test your hypothesis."

The sound of running water ceased instantly, accompanied by unidentifiable thumps and bumps as Booth scrambled to dry himself off. "I'll be right there."

She collected their empty wine glasses with a satisfied smirk and stood for a moment on the top step, watching the ebb and flow of light from the stars in the night sky. She grinned into the darkness, relishing the ease that she felt between them at this new level of their relationship. Then she felt a strange warmth that started in her abdomen and spread across her chest. With a start, Brennan realised she was … happy.

~o0o~

Booth came to by degrees, his body aching pleasurably. His outstretched hand met the cool emptiness of Brennan's absence and he sat up, disconcerted. He waited for sounds of activity but the cabin remained still and quiet.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he scrabbled around on the floor for his shorts, pulling them on impatiently before heading out to the large deck at the rear of the cabin.

The morning light bounced a golden halo around Brennan's hair as she crouched at the edge of the water, trailing a stick in the shallows. She'd thrown on a pale, satiny wrap that moved fluidly in the light breeze, making it hard to see where the water stopped and the garment started. For a split second he was mesmerized but the sight, but his over protective alpha male persona kicked in almost immediately. Acting purely on instinct, Booth leapt over the deck railing and ran the few short steps to the water's edge, swiftly gathering her up and taking her back up the steps.

"Booth – put me down! Are you completely crazy?" She sounded pissed, but she wasn't struggling to get out of his arms.

"Only about you." He kissed her soundly, letting her slide down the length of his body and come to the ground gently. "What are you doing up at this hour? Did you manage to get any sleep?"

She shook her head. "Jetlag always plays havoc with my body clock. I'll be okay in a day or two. Why did you just do that, run and pick me up?"

He kissed her again, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Alligators."

"What are you talking about?" She had that look on her face that told him she thought he was delusional.

He flicked a finger towards a sign further along the edge of the water, photoluminescent pigment still glowing weakly in the pale light. "Under Georgia law 27-3-170 it's unlawful to feed the alligators. Three hundred dollar fine or thirty days in jail. I'd probably have to arrest you, even if you made a very tasty meal." He watched her face; she still didn't quite know whether to take him seriously, sign or no sign.

"I very much doubt that, Booth, we are too far north to see alligators here and besides, the water temperature in this part of the river would only get to about 55 degrees during the day, and despite abundant sources of food it's unlikely that there are actually any alligators here. I believe you are – I think the appropriate colloquial expression would be – 'trying to make me consume a lie'." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a skeptical look.

"There really are alligators here, Bones." He tried to keep a straight face, but started laughing, holding his hands up in surrender at the look on her face. "Okay, the guy at the store said the last one was sighted a couple of years ago. Doesn't mean you don't take it seriously; there've been a few farm animals go missing near the lake just recently. And it doesn't mean I wouldn't 'wrassle' a gator for you, should you ever need me to."

"Thank you." She screwed up her face comically. "I think. Anyway, you can't arrest me; you're no longer a federal agent."

"It'd have to be a citizen's arrest then. I still have my handcuffs." His grin bordered on smug.

Brennan looked at him, speculation dancing across her features. "Ahh, scenario number ten. I concur, provided I get to use them first." She extended her hand to him in the time honored way to seal a contract. "Deal?"

He grasped her fingers and tugged hard, overbalancing her until she tumbled straight into his arms, right where she belonged. "Deal."

~o0o~

They were lying in the bottom of the boat, supported by a dozen cushions, while the water lapped lazily against the hull. The remains of their picnic lunch were packed away and Brennan trailed her fingers up and down Booth's bare chest. She'd finally fallen asleep around eight o'clock and had slept through until the early afternoon. Booth had used the morning to buy some more groceries, check out the marina and hire a boat for the rest of the day.

The boat was anchored in the middle of Lake Uchee, making lazy figure-eights as the cool Chattahoochee River tide swirled and mixed with the warmer lake water. They were making out and bickering about pretty much everything, punctuating their conversation with quick dips in the lake to cool off. Their conversation ebbed and flowed; now they were nibbling at the edges of their future.

"… anthropologically speaking eighty-three per cent of societies are polygamous." Brennan's tone was matter-of-fact, maybe even a little smug.

"We've been down that road before Bones. Isn't there any such thing as personal anthropology? You know, where it applies to real actual people? Like you and me?" He was shaking his head at her, loving that he knew she wouldn't be able to resist elaborating.

"Of course there is, although Applied Anthropology looks to method and theory to analyze and solve practical problems such as the relief of poverty or distress, or for the active recognition of human dignity. It's not generally something that's applied to individuals per se."

Booth pulled her across his chest, nuzzling her ear until she almost forgot what she was talking about. "Well, I'm feeling distressed that you haven't kissed me for at least ten minutes, and it sure would help keep my dignity intact if you didn't make me beg."

She laughed at his joke as he had intended, and did her best to help him avoid the whole begging thing with long lazy kisses in the sun. They drew apart eventually, lips tingling, and Booth closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun on his face, drifting off into a light doze. Brennan lay on her back with her head on his chest, her legs bent at the knees, one crossed over the other. One foot tapped the air in time with the lapping of the water while she turned something over in her mind.

"I believe I could be content living here." She announced, apropos of nothing.

"And do what – knit?" Booth's peace was well and truly shattered with that pronouncement. Where had that come from? If there was one thing he knew about Bones it was that she needed the intellectual stimulation of something other than handicrafts.

"I don't know how to knit but I suppose I could learn. How would that be beneficial? I actually thought that I could utilize my time effectively by writing another book. Or find some other suitable form of regional employment." She turned onto her side and hugged into his chest, warming to her theme and sending the tiny craft rocking crazily. "Is that why you suggested knitting?"

"Careful Bones, this is only a small boat." He tried to move so that he could see her face properly, but there wasn't enough room.

"Besides I am extremely wealthy. I don't actually even need to work." She kept her face averted as she spoke and it was then he realised that there was a subtext here that he wasn't quite getting.

"Bones, be serious." He swallowed hard, trying to understand. Was this her way of giving a commitment to him to stay with him here for more than just a few days? "I could maybe book the cabin for a few more weeks?" He stammered, hoping he was on the right track. When she didn't answer his heart fell and he reminded himself of his silent promise not to try to push her into anything before she was ready. He tried to lighten the mood. "Anyway you don't make life choices without a Boolean flow chart; I know that and you know that."

Brennan was silent for a long moment before reaching her arms around him and gathering him close. "I would like very much to stay here with you until your time is up, until the Army lets you go and we can return to our lives in DC." Brennan looked up at him then, still so unsure of herself. "If you'd like that, I mean."

"Wow." Booth tried not to make a big deal of the giant emotional leap she'd just made but in truth he felt joy pulse though his veins. In one fell swoop she'd just swept aside what he thought would be a major stumbling block between them. He beamed back at her. "Yes, Tem, I'd really like that. The base is only, what, fifteen, twenty minutes away. Easy commute." Of course he'd have to get permission to live off base, but he was hoping that was just a formality. Suddenly everything looked as bright as a shiny new penny.

"And we could have intercourse whenever we liked."

"Wow." He actually wasn't capable of articulating what was going through his head at that moment.

Now that the matter of staying was settled satisfactorily, she relaxed against him, her mind going back to one of his earlier comments. She raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Do you even know what a Boolean flow chart is?"

Booth chuckled at the change of pace. He should have been used to it, but the way her mind worked often still took him by surprise. "Nah, I just like saying _Boolean_. Bool_ean_." He rolled the name around his tongue experimentally. "_Boo_-." He said again, stretching the first syllable out, his lips pursed in an exaggerated expression. Brennan laughed delightedly, and brushed her lips over his.

"I love it when you talk dirty." She breathed the words into his mouth, sending shivers of awareness down his spine.

"Yeah? You do?" He brightened up perceptibly, delighted by her joke. "I got lots more. What about Schrödinger?"

"Wave Mechanics? An interesting strain of science that has practical applications to many facets of our investigative work." She screwed up her nose delicately and let one of her fingers trail circles around his left nipple. "Not bad, but that doesn't really arouse me."

"Hmm, right." He chewed on his bottom lip, wracking his brains to summon another name. "Ah … Fermi?"

Brennan screwed up her nose endearingly and kissed him for his efforts anyway. "It's my experience that atomic physicists rarely acknowledge the validity of any other field but their own. I find that intensely annoying."

"I can see that you would." The irony was lost on her but Booth had another point he wanted to make. "Never mind. I kinda like the sound of that guy's name." Brennan looked confused until Booth took her hand and directed it south. Comprehension cleared the frown from her forehead and she stroked him gently, enjoying the hard softness of his erection.

Another name popped into his head without warning and he blurted it out. "Hey, what about Emil Kraepelin? Didn't he do something scientific?"

"Stop it, Booth!" She rewarded him with a pinch for his efforts. "Psychiatry. Now that really is crap." She looked down her nose at him, her expression sour.

"Oh-ho, very punny, Bones." He grabbed her hand playfully, threading her fingers through his, and took a moment to kiss the tip of each finger. "Hey, I've got one that'll float your boat: Claude Levi-Strauss."

Brennan's eyes widened with surprise and she growled with exaggerated pleasure, rolling her palms over his chest and down his stomach.

Booth made a small guttural sound and involuntarily held his breath. She really had very talented fingers. "Ahhh, I'm glad I kept that one until last if you're going to react like this. Although why you should be turned on by the guy that invented blue jeans beats me."

"Claude Levi-Strauss is the founder of Structural Anthropology so I hope you're joking about the blue jeans." Brennan sat up in her eagerness to expand on her point, sending to boat into paroxysms of rocking. "His theory of Structuralism redefined anthropology in the sixties. His book Tristes Tropiques positioned him as one of the central figures in the Structuralist school of thought, where his ideas reached into fields including the humanities, sociology and philosophy."

"Hey careful, Bones. You'll have us in the drink. Anyway, that all sounds a lot like psychology to me." Booth teased, not really listening to what she was saying. He decided she could lecture him all day, every day, if it meant that he'd get the same view he had now of her breasts in that bikini top. Their rounded fullness quivered with the animation in her voice, punctuating her enthusiasm as she continued with a smile.

"He argued that the 'savage mind' had the same structures as the 'civilized' mind and that human characteristics are the same everywhere."

"You know, we're really going to have to have a chat about your pillow talk."

"What do you mean? We're not in bed. Anyway, you started it, talking about Structural Anthropology."

Her comment pleased Booth for reasons he didn't pause to examine. "Yeah, I s'pose I did." He pulled her back down until she lay along his side. She threw one arm over his hip, lazily massaging his ass. Booth wasn't sure what her intention was, but the rhythmic movement of her hand was driving him wild. "What were you saying about the savage mind, hmm? I'm feeling pretty savage right about now. What are you going to do about it?"

Brennan's hand paused while she thought it over and then she smiled wickedly. "Proposition thirteen?"

"Yeah. Lucky thirteen." He grinned and sat up, almost tipping the boat completely over in his haste. "I'm game if you are." He pulled up the anchor, powered up the outboard and they made it back to shore in record time.

~o0o~

Brennan rolled onto her side, pushing the sweat dampened sheets away to let the air cool her body. "I'm surprised that you knew all those theorists." Booth stayed spread-eagled on his back, taking a few moments to get his breath back. She frowned at him accusingly. "Have you been googling again?"

Booth had the grace to look sheepish. "Maybe."

Brennan was mystified. "Why?"

"Three days, Bones, three days. I had to do something to keep my mind occupied. Otherwise, you know, the rest of me got sorta - " He pulled a face, reluctant to put into words the condition his body had recently demonstrated so succinctly.

"Frustrated?"

"Something like that."

"Well, then …" Brennan didn't bother with niceties, scooting down the length of his body until her breath beat hotly against his thighs. "I don't want to be held responsible for causing you any further discomfort." She trailed her tongue along his length. "Or for any more googling."

"Bones, Bones … Tem – stop!" Booth was laughing and squirming away, trying to hold her searching lips away from the general area of his groin. "Gimme a break – I need some recovery time, babe."

Brennan's head bobbed up and she fixed him with that coolly dispassionate stare he'd missed so much. "Oh. I'd momentarily forgotten your advanced age and general physical deterioration." She watched the indignation flood his face for several moments, only dropping her chin and letting the smile widen her mouth when her lover growled as he reached for her. He rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him and proceeding to prove without a shadow of a doubt that he'd had all the recovery time he'd needed after all. And that effectively took care of propositions three and four simultaneously.

~o0o~

They ate alfresco on the deck, watching the sun as it started to descend over the hills on the far side of the lake. It was the last evening of Booth's leave and he was back on duty tomorrow. He would be coming home to her again tomorrow night, but they both felt the poignancy of the moment and fell silent.

"Why did you leave, Bones? Why was it so important to go to Maluku and look for those bones?" Booth's voice was raw; the question that had been uppermost in his mind for months just erupted out of nowhere.

Brennan took a deep breath. "It was a full set of inter-species hominid bones, a find of such anthropological significance as might not be discovered again in my lifetime. The anthro team could well find evidence of the hominid species with which _Homo flurensiensis_ mated. It was a major discovery, something that could have changed the course of history." Even to her own ears, her voice lacked the enthusiasm she'd had several months ago when she espoused the same reasoning.

"Tem, that's a load of hooey."

"It is not! I am a very rational person and I was merely outlining – _rationally_ – my reasons for taking part in the dig in Maluku." She had spent so many hours convincing herself that it was the right thing to do that she didn't really pay attention to the reasons any more.

Booth's temper flared, recognizing her answer for what it was; a well rehearsed plausible excuse. "No, Tem, you were rationalizing. That's a different thing altogether and you do it all the time! I asked you why you left; why you broke us, the team, up?"

Brennan paused to examine his statement; she wasn't sure she liked hearing what he was saying. Did she do that when it came to interpersonal relationships? Try to excuse her reasons for keeping her distance, rather than acknowledging that true intimacy with another person - with Booth in particular - could fracture the cool, remote façade she presented to the world? She faltered at the thought, her voice wavering. "It could have changed history."

"Oh right." Booth heard the pain in her voice and immediately regretted his spur-of-the-moment outburst. He let her off the hook with as much good grace as he could muster. "I'm sorry, you're right. You're an anthropologist and you have to go where the stuff is. I get that."

"Causal determinism, Booth; we are hardwired to require answers."

He didn't know whether she was talking about her going to the dig or his wanting to know why. "You don't owe me any explanations." He battled to keep the resentment out of his voice.

"Your words indicate one thing, but your tone signifies something quite different." Brennan frowned, trying to process what he wanted from her and failing miserably. "Sometimes it's like my brain performs reverse osmosis when I try to apply accepted emotional criteria to myself."

"Huh?" Booth screwed his face up in confusion, not missing the irony when he went on, "I don't know what that means."

"Reverse osmosis involves a diffusive mechanism so that separation efficiency is dependent on solute concentration, pressure, and water flux rate."

"Are we still talking about your brain? C'mon Bones, you're not a science experiment that has to fit into certain parameters. You're not an organism, you're a person. Give yourself permission to be happy."

"Well, strictly speaking, an organism -"

He cut through the scientific smokescreen firmly. "You're a person, Bones. With faults and prejudices and personal agendas and doubts, just like everyone else. Just because you're the best at what you do, doesn't mean you're perfect." He traced the back of his finger along the curve of her cheek tenderly. "And that's okay, sweetheart."

When she looked at his face, his eyes sad and his lips pressed tightly together as if to try and stem the questions, she dug deep to try and find the right words to explain it all to him. "I've always taken care of myself. My life experiences taught me that there was only one person I could depend on; me. And I've always assumed that making a commitment to another person meant subjugating a part of myself to that person." She dropped her eyes to the glass in her hand and swirled the contents absently. "I saw it with my parents, with the foster families that I was placed with … all the time."

"Ah, Bones, it doesn't have to be like that -"

She held up her hand to stay his words, and steeled herself to continue. "I extrapolated from my observations that the chances of my future involving a commitment to another person were extremely low."

Booth turned his face away and tried to focus on a flock of teal ducks taking flight to the west. He wasn't ready to examine whatever expression was in those beautiful eyes; he could feel the tension coming off her in waves. He gave a start when she placed her hand on his cheek and turned his head back so that he was looking straight at her.

"That is, until I met you." Her eyes were round and serious, but a smile lightly curved her lips.

Booth kept quiet, willing her to keep opening up to him emotionally, the way she had opened up to him physically. She had so much capacity to love unreservedly; he knew that for a fact. It hurt him to see her stay so buttoned up; it always had.

"I think our partnership has proved to me that being in a close relationship with someone does not make you a different person or dependent on someone else. At least, not in the way that I've always supposed. Booth, you have opened my mind to concepts that I have always dismissed as merely transitory and insignificant; you have been the one person who has proved to me that love isn't just a chemical reaction.

"I was wrong when I said I couldn't change; I didn't understand that it had already happened. I _have_ changed, Booth. Knowing you has changed me. Maybe I won't ever believe in all the things that you do, but I believe in you. I love you. I think that is all that I need to be happy."

"I'm never going to stop loving you."

"And I will never believe in absolutes." Her smile edged on apologetic.

Booth's eyes narrowed and he pinned her with the brown intensity of his gaze, humor lurking behind his eyes. "You know, you say that, but that's an absolute, isn't it?"

He drew her onto his lap, and she folded herself across his legs. He tucked an arm under her knees and settled her more comfortably against his chest. "Do you still think I need protecting from you?"

She chuckled. "Probably."

He returned her smile, gently resting his forehead against hers. "Maybe we can just look out for each other."

"Like we always have." She gave him a grave look, turning the full force of her beautiful eyes on him and melting his heart with the openness he saw there.

Booth returned her look with equal solemnity. "Like we always have. You're the center of my life, Bones."

"As are you, to mine. I find that reassuring." She snuggled into him and sighed happily, the tension leaving her body with the exhalation of her breath. "Life is very good."

"Yeah, life is very good."

* * *

Well that's the end ... or at least, the ending we'd all like. Would love to hear your thoughts, and thanks for reading! :D


End file.
